Volt Acid Dawn
by LadyJanet009
Summary: Kyra Dawn just found out that her entire life is a lie. Raised at MI6 Intelligence after a traumatic experience, it seems Kyra was cloned several times. Eight Delta Force babies, now teens are out there in the world, ready to be used for good or for evil.
1. Chapter 1

_**Volt Acid Dawn**_

_**By LadyJanet009**_

_Chapter One: Catalyst_

"So, what gives??", demanded firebrand teen Kyra Dawn, contem-

ptuously, surveying her "guardians" with unconcealed hostility, her

hackles raised in angry defiance. "You can't keep me here against

my will, even if you both have an insatiable teen fetish!! What are

you afraid of??". Awkward silence followed Kyra's demand. It is

merely minutes later that Captor One, Mrs Tulip Jones, speaks.

Beside Mrs Jones is a tall, grey-suited man with piercing grey

eyes and sallow-pale skin. He is Mr Alan Blunt, Head of MI6.

Tulip Jones, Deputy-in-Chief of MI6 British Intellligence, speaks

up in her defense. "I regret the circumstances that led to your

being here, Ms Dawn. But they are circumstances entirely bey-

ond my control- and MI6's. Since that day five years ago, we at

MI6 have raised you, sheltered you as our own. After all those

years of hard work, you choose _now _to be ungrateful to us?".

Mrs Jones was fairly tall, with cocoa-brown skin and bewitch-

ing green eyes. She wore an ebony work suit and ebony heels.

Kyra leapt rigidly to her Adidased feet, her quicksilver-fiery blood

pounding inside her eardrums, an odd click falling into place in her

mind. Images, flashbacks if you will, raced before her eyes now.

_A young girl of ten, with russet-auburn hair and fierce violet eyes, ran hurriedly_

_through Greygallant Woods, determined to get out of there and call for help._

_An ebony-gloved hand shoots suddenly out from behind an oak tree, grabbing_

_the girl's mouth and silencing the girl's attemts at screaming for swift help._

_A deep, gravelly voice, heavily-Russian-accented, interrogates the frightened_

_young girl about some blonde boy, dragging the girl swiftly behind the oak_

_and shaking her extremely hard. The girl struggles in the Russian's arms,_

_falling and hitting her head hard upon the ruthless snow underfoot now._

_Before losing consciousness, the girl sees a bright-red-haired man above_

_her, with fathomless, Atlantic-cold blue eyes, odd song-words in her ears._

"Kyra? Kyra!", exclaimed Mrs Jones worriedly, snapping the

dazed Kyra out of her ponderance. "Gotta go", Kyra said

deterringly, half-walking and half-running out of Tulip Jones'

office. Kyra soared past Captor Two, a tall and sallow-skinned

boring grey man in a boring grey suit, who was (rather laughably)

Alan Blunt, the Head of MI6 Intelligence. "Ms Dawn- Kyra", said

Blunt crisply, reaching out a hand to stop the teen. But Kyra was

by this time, already out the door and power-walking down the

stairwell. Everything flew by in a dizzying blur of crisp colour.

Kyra walked on, her violet-purple eyes flashing menacingly as

she focussed inwardly, upon the rising memory flaring inwardly

before her eyes. Oblivious to the dazed, perplexed gazes she

was attracting, Kyra blocked everything out, absorbed only in

her long-suppressed, now-rising memory. "_Tell me where Alex_

_Rider is, witch-kin!! I am Yassen Gregorovich- and a very bad man in the_

_bargain. I know thirty-three ways to maim, dislocate and dismember a_

_hostile, man, woman or girl. TELL ME WHERE RIDER IS!!!", the black-_

_clad assasin demanded, his cold blue eyes rabid and remorseless as_

_they rested upon Kyra. _

Completely preoccupied by the vision of the vicious, red haired

assasin's crazed blue eyes and snarling, desperate face, Kyra

neglected to look where she was going, colliding smack-bang

into a tall, very built, teenage boy with brown-blonde hair. Rec-

ognition dawned in Kyra's violet eyes. "_You!!", _Kyra snarled,

glaring deep into the boy's charcoal-grey eyes. Acting on aut-

opilot, Kyra swept her leg out, hooked the boy's legs in her right

foot and unceremoniously tripped the British teen up. The teen

boy went down like ninepins, calling gruff obscenities after the

tall, violet-eyed and russet-haired girl as Kyra swaggered away.

Agent Alex Rider of MI6 Intelligence Agency limped into Tulip

Jones' office, scowling heavily as he limped over to an ebony

leather visitor's chair and nodding gruffly to Blunt and Mrs Jo-

nes. "Ah, Mister Rider. I see you've already 'met' Ms Dawn,

then?", said Alan Blunt calmly, as if merely pointing out a par-

ticularly-venomous Tektodoxin poison. Alex surged to his

Nike'd feet, tousled brown-blonde sunstreaked hair ruffled

and his calculating charcoal-grey eyes flashing venomously.

Ignoring Blunt's outstretched, twitching hand of reassurance,

teen spy Alex Rider swaggered rather arrogantly past him.

Minutes later, Alex found himself stationed within Alan Blunt's

office, seated in an emerald-green suede chair and facing a

rather anxious Tulip Jones defiantly. "No, No and _No!! _I am

_not _working with that psychopath reprobate! I don't care if

Dawn's the best girl recruit you've got. Send in George. Or

Cam. Or Dave!! Anyone other than _Kyra Dawn!", he _argued

vehemently. Mrs Jones surveyed her favourite teen spy qui-

zzicly. _Alex is like a son to me_, she reflected to herself warily,

a wave of maternal warmth enveloping her as she smiled.

"I'm sorry, Alex. It's out of my hands, lad. Get to know the

newbie. Be her confidante. Do whatever it takes to keep

the truth from Kyra. As an extra precaution, I'll send along

Ms Thomas to aid you. Go now- and tell not a _soul_ about

this meeting. Your new mission", said Mrs Jones grimly,

deep melancholy in the very depths of her hazel-green

eyes. Alex shot Mrs Jones a mournful, tortured look in

reply, his charcoal-grey eyes identical to his late uncle's,

Ian Rider, who was the best spy MI6 had ever had, before

his untimely death in Cornwall, on-mission a year ago now.

Alex fought to keep his boiling resentment and volcanic-

proportioned rage under control, the effort all-too-visible

within his deep charcoal eyes. "C'mon!! Give me another

partner.. anyone, just not that teen nutcase! I'd even sell

you my soul and work with Albright. I'll be the laughing-

stock of the century here!!", he argued in desperation,

wishing that it was his girlfriend George that he was

really working with. Tulip Jones chuckled, eyes of hazel-

green mirthful as she smiled down at her favourite spy.

"Come now, Alex.. most certainly _not _the _only _laughing-

stock of the _century._ Doctor Grief, for one, is an exam-

ple. No exceptions. Again, I'm sorry, Alex.. but you must

work with Agent Dawn. I will send along George as pro-

mised- maybe even Ms Albright as well. Dismissed, R-

ider", Mrs Jones answered authoritively, as cold shutters

closed down behind her eyes, concealing her true emo-

tions. Feeling considerably brighter, Alex left the office

a changed boy. At fifteen years of age, Alex vowed an

overdue resolution: he would make the girl's life a living hell.

Alex headed for Smithers' workshop, 'borrowing' a sleek,

metallic-silver motorbike from the entrance courtyard and

hopping astride it, as he kick-started the 'bike's engine.

He was pleasantly surprised when he felt his girlfriend's

slender arms wrap around his muscular torso, even m-

ore so when George swept onto the 'bike behind Alex

and clung tightly to his chest. Alex took off in one smooth

motion, ripping a wheelie as he went and trailblazing a bur-

nout on the cobblestones in a screech of acceleration.

"Hey! That's my bike, punk!!", snarled a burly biker in

outrage, his yells left far behind in Alex's rapid wake.

With a steely glint in his charcoal-grey eyes, Alex ig-

nored the faraway biker, relaxing as George rested

her chin on his left shoulder, passing Alex a metallic-

blue helmet as she did so. Alex kissed George on the

cheek quickly, before allowing his girlfriend to put the

helmet over his eyes, then leant low over the emerald

handlebars as he twisted the right handle, accelerating

furiously as he increased the fast speed to breakneck.

George yelled happily, her words lost in the rushing wind,

hardly able to believe her bold impulsiveness. Here she

was, at age fourteen-and-a-half, riding on the back of a

stolen motorbike, clutching _the _hottest young spy ever

to grace _all _spydom (who happened to be not only her

_boyfriend, _but MI6's best Agent and secret weapon.)

Full to bursting with contentment, George still couldn't

believe that a) it was only a few months ago (alright, six)

that she'd met (and snared) Alex on her last mission.

And b) that she (a modest student) was climbing the

difficult ropes to being recognised as a great spy in

her own right. Alex hooked a smoke-billowing U-turn,

his thoughts solely centred upon the mysterious Ge-

orge Thomas. His girlfriend filled Alex with an unq-

uenchable blue fire that would never wane or waver.

She made him a better man and best of all, she und-

erstood what made Alex who he was (and what a rat-

race being in the employ of MI6 truly was- every day.)

Racing along Clarendon Street, Alex roared along

the cobblestoned terrain, stopping before the ent-

rance of MI6's cover building, the Royal and General

Bank. Alex expertly cut the engine, smoothly dismo-

unted the bike and bowed graciously to the burly biker.

Disregarding the biker's heavily-scowling face and m-

enacing stance, Alex turned, gallantly helping George

down into his muscular arms. The sun set overhead.

_Chapter Two: Near-miss and New Ally_

'So here it all goes. Down the plug-hole', thought Kyra

Dawn impishly, putting her all behind her lethal boxing-bag

strikes, oblivious of the deep open-palm welts her knuckles

were amassing. _BLAMPH!! _The electric-blue boxing-bag fl-

ew backwards, straining at its steel ceiling-tether as it strai-

ned for release. "Damn them!! Damn them and their _lies _and

_justice _crap", Kyra growled mutinously to herself, raining bar-

rage after barrage upon the unanimate target. _BLAMPH!!._

Kyra dodged aside effortlessly, as the 'bag swung retaliat-

ingly forwards. Kyra then swept intricately into a swift series

of blocks, strikes and defense, pounding combo after combo

upon the creaking, defenseless boxing-bag of MI6 Training-

Stadium. Kyra's violet-purple eyes took on a haunted, crazed

menace, growing crazed with fanaticism and deep defiance.

Her copper-russet hair flew out behind her like an avenging

shade. An ominous creak of a high-above chandelier sounded

high above, but Kyra heeded it not in her fanatical fury now.

The newest MI6 continued to rain flurry after flurry of truly

devastating move-combos upon the solitary, solid boxing-

bag as high above, the crystal chandelier escaped its prison...

_CLINK. CLATTER._ "LOOK OUT!!", someone shouted hoa-

rsely, leaping at Kyra and dive-tackling her to the floor, as the

deadly projectile shattered into a million pieces upon the map-

lewood floor, mere metres from Kyra's last position, a few s-

econds before. Shaking furiously, Kyra looked up shakily,

skin-deep in the frigidity of aftershock as she surveyed the

near-accident-scene. It was not a pretty scene, she noticed.

In Kyra's terror-daze, she blurrily registered an extremely-

pretty girl with kind, emerald-green eyes and hair of burni-

shed bronze, sporting a confident grin. "You dolt!! See wh-

at would have happened, had I not saved you from yourself?

You're in _serious _need of a _stressball, _matey. We need to

get ya re-organised, so come with me. I'm George Thomas,

by the way", said the kindly new girl, her accent broadly British.

Still in aftershock, Kyra let George help her to her feet, then

felt a spasm of pain thunder up from her right ankle and near-

crumpled, unable to stop her gaze straying onto the diamond-

shards, lying broken and gleaming upon the maplewood floor.

Nor could Kyra avert her mind from their fallen beauty, or do

anything except allow herself to be borne away by the pretty

stranger, other than nodding occasionally in response to any

elusive, unlucid sound. As the two unlikely new friends reached

the Stadium door, they found their way blocked by Alex Rider,

who lounged casually against the doorframe, looking pretty

pleased with himself as he did so. "George. What happened

to _her?_", Alex asked George directly, purposefully shifting his

body to more effectively block any gaps, ignoring Kyra intent-

ionally. Alex's usually-tanned face was slightly flushed, his ex-

pression neutral and his eyes gleaming excitedly in triumph.

George sent Alex her best lok of vicious contempt. "_She's_

got a _name, _Ride-boy!! One I don't know yet, but a _name_

nonetheless! Get out of our way!!", she snapped acidly,

her tone containing an edge of diamond-sharp super steel.

Alex stepped aside lazily, his hands raised disarmingly, as

he grinned ruefully at George, his tousled brown-blonde

haired spiked attractively. "As you wish, Your Crabbiness!",

he retorted sharply, greatly wounded by his girlf's venom.

As George supported an extremely-shaking, staring-

blankly Kyra out of the Stadium, an incensed Alex called

out spitefully. His words followed George chillingly now.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Near-miss and New Ally_

'So here it all goes. Down the plug-hole', thought Kyra

Dawn impishly, putting her all behind her lethal boxing-bag

strikes, oblivious of the deep open-palm welts her knuckles

were amassing. _BLAMPH!! _The electric-blue boxing-bag fl-

ew backwards, straining at its steel ceiling-tether as it strai-

ned for release. "Damn them!! Damn them and their _lies _and

_justice _crap", Kyra growled mutinously to herself, raining bar-

rage after barrage upon the unanimate target. _BLAMPH!!._

Kyra dodged aside effortlessly, as the 'bag swung retaliat-

ingly forwards. Kyra then swept intricately into a swift series

of blocks, strikes and defense, pounding combo after combo

upon the creaking, defenseless boxing-bag of MI6 Training-

Stadium. Kyra's violet-purple eyes took on a haunted, crazed

menace, growing crazed with fanaticism and deep defiance.

Her copper-russet hair flew out behind her like an avenging

shade. An ominous creak of a high-above chandelier sounded

high above, but Kyra heeded it not in her fanatical fury now.

The newest MI6 continued to rain flurry after flurry of truly

devastating move-combos upon the solitary, solid boxing-

bag as high above, the crystal chandelier escaped its prison...

_CLINK. CLATTER._ "LOOK OUT!!", someone shouted hoa-

rsely, leaping at Kyra and dive-tackling her to the floor, as the

deadly projectile shattered into a million pieces upon the map-

lewood floor, mere metres from Kyra's last position, a few s-

econds before. Shaking furiously, Kyra looked up shakily,

skin-deep in the frigidity of aftershock as she surveyed the

near-accident-scene. It was not a pretty scene, she noticed.

In Kyra's terror-daze, she blurrily registered an extremely-

pretty girl with kind, emerald-green eyes and hair of burni-

shed bronze, sporting a confident grin. "You dolt!! See wh-

at would have happened, had I not saved you from yourself?

You're in _serious _need of a _stressball, _matey. We need to

get ya re-organised, so come with me. I'm George Thomas,

by the way", said the kindly new girl, her accent broadly British.

Still in aftershock, Kyra let George help her to her feet, then

felt a spasm of pain thunder up from her right ankle and near-

crumpled, unable to stop her gaze straying onto the diamond-

shards, lying broken and gleaming upon the maplewood floor.

Nor could Kyra avert her mind from their fallen beauty, or do

anything except allow herself to be borne away by the pretty

stranger, other than nodding occasionally in response to any

elusive, unlucid sound. As the two unlikely new friends reached

the Stadium door, they found their way blocked by Alex Rider,

who lounged casually against the doorframe, looking pretty

pleased with himself as he did so. "George. What happened

to _her?_", Alex asked George directly, purposefully shifting his

body to more effectively block any gaps, ignoring Kyra intent-

ionally. Alex's usually-tanned face was slightly flushed, his ex-

pression neutral and his eyes gleaming excitedly in triumph.

George sent Alex her best lok of vicious contempt. "_She's_

got a _name, _Ride-boy!! One I don't know yet, but a _name_

nonetheless! Get out of our way!!", she snapped acidly,

her tone containing an edge of diamond-sharp super steel.

Alex stepped aside lazily, his hands raised disarmingly, as

he grinned ruefully at George, his tousled brown-blonde

haired spiked attractively. "As you wish, Your Crabbiness!",

he retorted sharply, greatly wounded by his girlf's venom.

As George supported an extremely-shaking, staring-

blankly Kyra out of the Stadium, an incensed Alex called

out spitefully. His words followed George chillingly now.


End file.
